


Never Enough

by Rose_SK



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parent, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Young Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, no beta we die like witchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28578732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_SK/pseuds/Rose_SK
Summary: Prompt fill: "You make me feel like I'm not good enough."---“She’s… Jaskier, she’s not ready,” Geralt tells him, his tone heavy with all the emotions he will never bring himself to speak out loud, “she’s not ready. I feel like I failed her.”“Failed her? Whatever do you mean, dear heart?”Geralt meets Jaskier’s eyes and what the bard sees reflected in those amber orbs - the genuine concern, the guilt, the raw vulnerability - tugs at Jaskier’s heartstrings.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 99





	Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was requested by @geraskier-trashh as part of my 800 follower celebration on tumblr. Feel free to visit my blog and send in a request from the prompt list pinned to my tumblr :) (@havenoffanfoms). Always up for a chat!
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this little silly piece of fluff.

“Wrong,” Geralt grates as he watches Ciri land on her left foot and nearly lose her balance, “Footwork. These kinds of mistakes get you killed on the Path. Don’t overdo the pirouettes. Do you think we’re running a circus here?”

Jaskier raises his eyes from the book he’s reading and watches Ciri reposition herself on the pendulum and readjust her grip on her training sword, her breathing coming in short laboured puffs. Judging by the position of the sun, a couple of hours have passed since she started her training. Jaskier feels a chill course through him as the sun is obscured by dark menacing clouds. 

“Footwork. Ciri, are you trying to wind me up today? C’mon, you can do better than this. Much better. Pirouette. Keep your sword raised.”

“Why are you so mean today?” Ciri snaps before throwing her sword at Geralt’s feet. Jaskier can sense the tension rising and decides to abandon his book for the time being. He rises to his feet and walks up to Geralt where he places a grounding hand on the witcher’s lower back.

“I’m training you, Ciri. You’re at a witcher school and not at the Cintran court anymore. If I don’t correct your mistakes you will internalise them.”

“I’m tired, Geralt,” Ciri whines, and in her defence, the girl looks positively exhausted, “can we please stop training? I want a bath and food”. There are dark rings under Ciri’s eyes, a detail that Jaskier didn’t notice until now, and it appears that she’s struggling to stand on her own two feet. Jaskier goes to comment on her condition when Geralt interrupts him.

“You think the Path will be lenient with you? You think you’ll get to enjoy a bath or unlimited food whenever you like?”

“Geralt, dear heart,” Jaskier decides to intervene when he sees tears of frustration well up in Ciri’s eyes, “you’ve been training for hours now. The girl needs to rest.”

“She needs to improve her fighting skills,” Geralt maintains as he picks up Ciri’s sword and hands it back to her, “again, and concentrate this time.”

Ciri glares at him, her hands balling into fists at her side. Rather than do as she was told, Ciri jumps off the pendulum with a flip and struts past Geralt, her nose sticking up haughtily as she flicks her hair and pointedly avoids making eye contact with her mentor. Geralt, who doesn’t appreciate her bratty attitude, is quick to grab her by the shoulder. 

“Young lady - “

“Why are you so mean today?” Ciri screams at him, her tears now freely running down her cheeks, “ _you make me feel like I’m not good enough_. Like I’ll _never_ be good enough! I get it, I’m a stupid little girl who will never be as strong as you. I will never be a good witcher, so why bother with my training if I’m clearly so hopeless?”

Ciri wriggles free from Geralt’s grip and takes off in the direction of the keep, not even looking back when Jaskier calls after her. He knows there’s no point in chasing the girl, not when she is clearly that upset. Next to him, Geralt heaves an exasperated sigh before muttering a crude ‘fuck’ under his breath. Jaskier offers him a sad smile. 

“She’s tired. You’re both tired. Give her some time.”

“She’s… Jaskier, she’s not ready,” Geralt tells him, his tone heavy with all the emotions the white wolf will never bring himself to speak out loud, “she’s not ready. I feel like I failed her.”

“Failed her? Whatever do you mean, dear heart?” 

Geralt meets Jaskier’s eyes and what the bard sees reflected in those amber orbs - the genuine concern, the guilt, the raw vulnerability - tugs at Jaskier’s heartstrings. Geralt is not the easiest person to read but occasionally he will wear his heart on his sleeve. Only for Jaskier. He didn’t trust this part of himself to anyone but Jaskier. 

“I’ve been neglecting her training. I’ve delegated much of it to Lambert and Eskel. I hated training the younger recruits back in the day, it’s just so… hard. I haven’t got the patience for it. The moves I teach her seem so obvious and easy to me and I don’t understand why she’s struggling so much with them.”

“Well, for one,” Jaskier’s hands both come to rest on Geralt’s hips so he can pull the witcher closer until their lips are mere inches apart, “she’s a child. She tires easily and you can’t expect her to keep up with your witcher stamina. Also,” Jaskier proceeds to press a single featherlight kiss to Geralt’s neck, “you don’t praise her enough. You point out her mistakes, but you don’t highlight her achievements. It’s not surprising that Ciri feels like she’s not doing anything right even though her technique is for the most part very good.”

“Of course her technique is very good. She needs to watch out for those little mistakes, those are the ones that - “

“Shh, listen to me!” Jaskier gently orders, his lips travelling up Geralt’s throat and kissing the spot right below his ear. Jaskier smiles when he feels the witcher relax under his ministrations. “You’re a perfectionist, Geralt, I know this. Remember that time you slayed not one, but two, royal griffins and all you could think about was how you didn’t mix your Grapeshot bombs correctly so they weren’t as powerful as they should’ve been?”

“A witcher should always check his equipment before going into a contract. Anything else is careless and sloppy.”

“Hmm, you don’t have to parrot Vesemir’s words back at me, my love.” Jaskier finally indulges Geralt and locks their lips in a sweet kiss, pouring all his love and affection into the gesture. Geralt fully melts in Jaskier’s arms and buries his face in the crook of Jaskier’s neck, inhaling the comforting scent of sandalwood mixed with a faint hint of sweat. “You really should take it easy on Ciri. She’s not as hardy as you, Lambert or Eskel.”

“I know.” Geralt sighs into Jaskier’s neck, the action sending a pleasant shiver coursing down the length of Jaskier’s spine. “Fuck, she must hate me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Geralt. She’s irritated now, but she’ll forgive you. She always forgives you.”

“Hmm. So do you,” Geralt leaves a trail of kisses along Jaskier’s neck. The latter lets out a shaky breath but wills himself to keep a clear head if only for Geralt’s sake. “I don’t deserve either of you.”

“Well, you’re stuck with us now,” Jaskier grins when his words pull a warm chortle from Geralt, “no backsies.”

Geralt pulls away enough so he can gaze softly into Jaskier’s eyes. 

“No, no backsies indeed. How do you think I can make up for my foul mood today?”

“Well, Ciri and I have been mentioning ice-skating for a while now,” Jaskier suggests with an air of faux innocence as he flutters his pretty eyelashes at Geralt. The witcher raises an amused eyebrow in response. 

“I have heard _you_ mention ice-skating. Not so much Ciri…”

“She’ll love it, I’m sure,” Jaskier assures his lover with a mischievous grin and a vague gesture of the hand, “so? Ice-Skating?”

Geralt rolls his eyes fondly before stealing a furtive kiss from Jaskier.

“Fine. Ice-skating it is.”

Geralt’s tone might be one of resentment, but the look in his eyes is one of pure adoration. Jaskier smiles. This moment, right there, is the stuff dreams are made of.


End file.
